


Sinners

by BloodyRose13



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:19:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyRose13/pseuds/BloodyRose13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vera goes missing just before dinner, and the storm outside is raging on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinners

_**"Do you want me, or do you want me dead?" ~ All Time Low // Do You Want Me (Dead)** _

* * *

 

Philip Lombard, Vera thought, was all kinds of trouble.

He was immoral, he was arrogant, he was unapologetic and only cared about himself. He was infuriating. 

She could feel his gaze on her from across the room, whilst she was idly chatting with Anthony Marston. It was always there, the feeling of being watched. It was somehow unsettling and oddly calming at the same time. She was unsure if he was either being a voyeur or a watchful protector. Maybe he was both. His eyes would follow her around the room as she poured out drinks for the others, but he never said anything. Just sat there smoking, oh-so-calmly with a constant smirk.

The only time he would truly react was in the moments when she interacted with Marston. His eyes seemed to burn with emotion then, and the irritating amused smile he always wore would slip from his face.

She was barely paying attention to Marston's words, but he failed to notice anyway- he was too busy bragging about his "thriving social status" and "great accomplishments" in life. He was incredibly obnoxious, Vera thought, but she was fairly fond of him. She found him more interesting than the others. And she couldn't deny that he was attractive. She'd like to take a ride with him in his flashy car, if she could. She liked the danger, the thrill. She'd always been attracted to it. That was her problem, she supposed. 

She excused herself from the living room, leaving to help Mrs Rogers with food preparation in the kitchen.

* * *

 

Five minutes later, she found herself slicing meat, under the instructions of Mrs Rogers. The frail little lady had scurried off, however, leaving Vera alone.

"Evening, Vera."

She almost jumped as the voice came from behind her. Startled, she turned around with the knife still in her hand. He was close enough to her that she could easily wound him, by accident or not. Yet, he seemed completely unfazed. He stepped even closer to her, as if he were not afraid of her at all.

"May I help you?" She asked in an irritated tone, placing the knife on the table behind her and crossing her arms over her chest. "And I would prefer if you wouldn't use my first name so casually, thank you very much."

He smirked at her once more, burning her with his gaze. He seemed completely unfazed by her sharp comment.

"I apologize, Miss Claythorne. And I'm sorry for staring at you so much. It's just that I'm incredibly intrigued by you."

She was taken aback for a moment, stunned into a surprised silence. He moved closer to her, eyes boring into hers.

"You fascinate me, Miss Claythorne."

She parted her lips to reply but could not think of anything to say.

"I can see through it, you know." He continued. "You put on this huge façade. You've got everyone fooled with the appearance of being a pure, innocent girl. But I know you're just pretending. I know you're faking it all. It's all an act. There's a fair few mysterious people on this island but you, Miss Claythorne, you are the biggest deceiver of them all. And it's so attractive."

She scoffed, feeling insulted. "I'll have you know I'm a very respectable woman. Anyone on this island would agree."

He smirked again, seeing that he'd gotten her riled up now. "You're not fooling me, Vera. You're just as bad as I am. And these people are either extremely fake or fucking morons, if you were to take a leap off the cliff I'm sure half of them would simply pretend to miss you."

"You're an asshole." she spat. And with that she left him in the kitchen, abandoning her task with the meat. 

She pulled on her coat and opened the grand front doors, huffing. She was fuming. How dare he? Who was he to scrutinize her so, this stranger that she'd only met a few hours ago. And why was he so damn perceptive?

* * *

She found herself wandering through the fields towards the very edge of the cliffs. The sky was darkening rapidly, as thunder rippled through the sky. It was going to start pouring down with rain any minute now.

It was very daunting, standing out to sea and watching the great expanse of water stretch out before you for miles and miles. It made her feel small. She liked the sounds of the chaotic crash of the waves against the shore as the weather became more and more intense. She liked the feeling of insignificance as she stood amongst it all, one young lady against the forces of mother nature. There was a certain awe and fascination that she'd always had with storms.

The rain started to fall relentlessly, but she somehow couldn't tear herself away from the sight in front of her. So she stood, ignoring the wetness soaking through her clothes.

* * *

 

Back in the house, everyone took their places at the table. Philip noticed an empty seat between him and Marston.

"Is Vera still upstairs?" he questioned.

Mrs Rogers looked at him. "Beg pardon?"

"Miss Claythorne." he corrected himself." Where is she?"

"I believe she went for a walk outside."

He stood up suddenly, scraping his chair backwards with a loud screech. "What is she doing? She'll catch her death." 

"I'm sure she can't have gone far." Judge Wargrave assured.

"Yes, well, I can't imagine she'll be long when she has the luck of a seat waiting for her next to me." Marston smirked cockily. Philip fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Without another word, he went out into the main hallway and grabbed his coat and an umbrella from the stand, setting out to find her.

* * *

 

"Vera!" A voice called in the distance. Oh God, it was _him_.

She could just about hear him over the rain. "What are you doing out here? I thought something happened to you."

"Spare me the act." she half-shouted coldly. "You don't care about anyone but yourself. You're a cold-blooded killer."

"At least I'm honest about it. I've never given a damn what anyone thinks. I'm a sinner, and I know it."

"Come away from the edge, you'll fall!" He commanded, inching closer to her.

"You said I wouldn't be missed." She pointed out.

"I didn't mean that."

Was he actually showing emotion? Concern? Care? Was it possible Philip Lombard had a slightly softer side?

All of a sudden, he was wrapped around her, seemingly not caring about getting himself wet as he pressed his dry, warm body against hers. "It wasn't true anyway. I'd certainly miss you. The island would feel a whole lot lonelier without you."

She was at a loss for words.

"Come inside." he said, taking her arm and leading her away from the cliff's edge.

* * *

 

During dinner, while Marston flirted with her, Philip placed his hand on her thigh under the table. When she got fed up and pushed him away, he took hold of her hand instead. It was amazing how quickly he changed from bold cockiness to a certain kind of softness around her. Only her, though. No one else. Only she got to see this side of him.

Amongst the idle conversation about the world war, Marston was offering to take her out in his car the next day, but she declined. She was no longer interested, and Philip couldn't hide his satisfied smirk.

They danced together, the old record spinning and filling the room. He wrapped an around her tighter, pulling her body against his chest more. He let out a soft sigh, tucking her hair behind her ear. He leaned down to whisper, "My sinful little murderess."

He sucked a mark into her neck, later, while they made passionate love. She could easily conceal it with her hair, but he knew it was there. He liked to lightly press his fingertips into it when he could, a smug smile appearing on his lips as she winced slightly. His possessive side came out, during these moments. No one else could have her. She was his. He'd marked it into her pretty skin now. 

And if, afterwards, they slept soundly together with her back pressed against his chest and his strong arms wrapped firmly around her stomach, no one had to know.

 


End file.
